The Secret Admirer
by Midnight-in-Russia
Summary: AU set in 1920s Boston, Massachusetts Roy loves to play the piano on his days off of work. However, he never realized that his neighbors could hear him through the walls, until one day, he gets a note from one of them. What do they want? Who could it be?


Leaves fell from the trees in swathes of red and orange, whirling around in the wind, scattering themselves along the sidewalk. Brownstone buildings lined the street, quaint and charming, and trees brimming with fall's vivid colors stood tall, covering the sidewalk with their shade. Autumn had arrived, and the cool zephyrs held a chill that promised a cold winter.

Somewhere in the distance, soft music floated through the open street, drifting out one of the townhouses. Light curtains billowed in the gentle fall breeze that swept through the open window. The soothing notes of the piano carried all throughout the house, the melody serenading anyone who might be taking a stroll down the cobblestone street.

Long, elegant fingers flew over the keys, graceful and enchanting. Roy Mustang sat in his parlor, light pouring in from outside. He played as if it was what he had been born to do, and the calming tune made him heave a soft sigh of relief. Tension melted from his frame as he played on, the warmth of the sun hitting the back of his neck.

He lived for days like this, where he could just sit back, relax, play the piano if he wanted to. Work was stressful most days, and, most days, he would come home, eat, shower, and go straight to sleep. However, once or twice a week, he would have a random desire to play. It was easy to get lost in the music - so easy, in fact, that he almost didn't hear the knock at the front door. The sound of something light hitting the wood floor made him stop.

Roy's fingers froze on the keys as he stared down the hall from where he sat, furrowing his brows. He wasn't expecting any company. Still, he thought, it wasn't so late in the day that someone couldn't drop by unexpectedly. It sounded almost like he had gotten mail through the mail slot in his front door, but it was Sunday, so he knew it couldn't be the postman.

Getting to his feet, he tried to peer out of the open window, but he couldn't see the front door from the harsh angle. It was probably just his best friend, Maes. He cautiously rounded the corner to the foyer, confused when he saw a folded piece of paper on the floor. The corners of his mouth pulled down into a slight frown as he bent down to grab the paper. What could this possibly be?

Gingerly, he opened the paper, wandering slowly back to the parlor as he read it. It was short and to the point, but Roy was already smiling as he looked over the messily scrawled note.

_A humble request for the pianist: A River Flows in You by Yiruma_

It was a piece that Roy knew by heart, but he had not played it in quite some time. A simple joyfulness enveloped his heart, knowing that someone nearby was listening to his playing and enjoying it. He had never realized that the music could be heard by anyone next door. It could have been from someone merely passing by outside, but one glance out of the window told Roy that there was no one standing around nearby waiting for him to play. No, it was most likely one of his neighbors.

He sat down, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. He laid the note on top of the piano, resting his fingers on top of the keys. Roy wondered if his secret, one-person audience enjoyed listening as much as he enjoyed playing. Slowly he touched the keys, the melody quietly reverberating throughout the house. It was an emotional piece, one he was rather fond of. It invoked all kinds of emotions from him - happiness, sorrow, hope, and more. It was beautiful.

His mind wandered as he performed, thinking of his neighbors. To the left, he had a couple with two small children. Sometimes he could hear the rambunctious children playing or the family laughing together. It had been quiet for the past few days, and he had realized that they must have taken a vacation or a trip. Nobody had been home for days, and he remembered seeing them walking out with travel bags. So the writer of the note was no one from that family to the left.

He sighed happily as the peaceful song soothed his soul, caressing his very being lovingly with its notes. The only other neighbors he had were two young men who lived to his right. They seemed to be related as they looked alike. Roy had guessed a while ago that they were most likely brothers. It would make more sense for one of them to be the writer; their house was directly on the other side of the wall of Roy's parlor. They could probably hear everything. He shook his head; it was a wonder they hadn't complained yet.

As Roy played, he was left to wonder which of the brothers it could be. They were both young; Roy, himself, was still young, but these men looked to be in their late teens or early twenties at the oldest. They both had long hair, usually swept up into ponytails. One brother had slightly darker blonde hair and kind, grey eyes. He always waved at Roy whenever they saw each other outside. He wasn't a social butterfly, by any means, but the young man always radiated friendliness and had even knocked on Roy's door once to deliver a package for him that they had been sent by mistake.

There was a chance that it could be the friendly brother, but no matter how much Roy tried to picture it, he couldn't see the young man shoving a messily scrawled note through his mail slot to request a piece. It just didn't seem like something he would do. That led Roy to wonder if it could be the other brother.

The other brother was a bit shorter than the first one. His hair was bright, golden, and always pulled back as well. Roy had never gotten a good look at him for more than a few seconds and from a distance. He had noticed that the shorter man had a prosthetic arm - a metal one. The shorter brother wasn't as sociable as the first, so Roy had never officially met him. He had only ever locked eyes with him once, by accident, and that was the extent of their interacting. Still, it might be the shorter one. It might not be.

Roy smiled, jokingly thinking of different ways to do a handwriting analysis. He thought of going door-to-door and ask people to sign a petition for something. Then he could get at least one of the brothers' signatures and try to compare that with the note. He shook his head, chuckling. No, he would have to figure out a different way to find out which brother it could be.

His fingers gently slipped off of the keys as he finished the song, leaving silence in his wake. He stood up and stretched, hoping his admirer had heard the music and enjoyed it. If Roy was being honest, the odd request had made him happy. It was nice to feel appreciated, and, although it was unexpected, Roy felt cheery as he decided to make his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

Just then, he heard a light clapping sound through the walls to the right of the parlor. They were applauding his performance. He grinned; he had been right about it being one of the brothers at least. If he had been able to hear a little more clearly through the walls, he would have heard that the person was clapping with mismatched hands - one flesh and one metal.


End file.
